


The Martian Saga

by Merfilly



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-20
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-01-13 03:32:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1211014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate DC timeline, where Bruce, just prior to when he intended to debut as Batman, is abducted to Mars, and sets a new course for his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cast Into the Red

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published on Livejournal in 2007-2008 as a serial fic, now collected in one piece.

His first awareness was of a room, lit by steady, non-burning lights in a circular pattern. Above him, where he had fallen from, there was a doorway through which he could still see the skies above the manor. His next awareness was the feeling of pain, from where he had landed on the stone floors. Vaguely, his mind noted he did not hurt as much as he ought to.

Sitting up was awkward, as his body did not want to obey the gravitational pull correctly. Slowly, he adjusted to the feeling of being lighter, stronger than he ought to be, and took note of the beings around him.

Feral, demonic creatures with pearl white skin and blazing red eyes surrounded him. He was not a boy anymore, he reminded himself. The red and white were colors, not a blaze across his psyche, trying to break him back to an alleyway.

So why did he scream in an atmosphere that seemed too thin, lacking in oxygen and other elements his body craved?

The scream ended in blackness, as one of the demons rushed him, knocking him out before he could master his muscles to move and fight back.

* * *

~Peace, Terran.~

The young man scrambled back against the stone wall as he saw a demon like the others... no, not as spiny, nor as deadly looking... but green hovering over him. 

Then details kicked in, such as the air felt right, and the gravity did not seem as awkward for him. And that voice, speaking English in a clear Gotham accent was only in his mind.

~I am a prisoner too.~

"Where am I?" The words were spoken aloud, but the lost human realized their meaning was only in his mind for this strange being.

~Ma'aleca'andra.~ There was a pause, and then a new reply to replace that flowing, alien sound. ~Mars.~

"Mars?" The human looked at the being who had never moved that far away from him, only far enough to not be touching. "You're a Martian. And those white ones?"

~Also Martian. They seek to learn of Per'elandra ... Earth ... from you. They think to conquer it, as they have tried to conquer my world.~ 

"But they haven't won yet?"

~No. I think they see Per'elandra as weaker, a place to regroup while my people try to salvage our world.~ The spiny green being looked at the human closely. ~We cannot allow this. They have adapted you to our air, to our world by their science. It will take time to learn your secrets, as their telepathy is not as advanced as that of my race. I will do all I can to guard your mind, and help you.~

"Why?" the man said suspiciously. His involuntary companion looked startled, as if the question need not have been asked.

~Because it is the right thing to do.~

The utter sincerity... the truth of that thought, caught the human deep in the seat of his soul, and he held his hand out before he even knew he was moving. "I'm Bruce Wayne."

~Bruce.~ A smile formed on the green face, one that looked right, even though Bruce somehow knew he'd had little cause to in a long while. ~J'onn J'onzz.~

"My pleasure, J'onn."

* * *

Bruce had to blink when the cell opened and two of the white ones came in. His companion, seeming to be a strong, full-bodied specimen of the green variety of the aliens no longer looked the same. He was smaller, looking more spindly, with chains around his neck and a malevolent set to his features.

~They believe me to be my twin, traitor of my own kind, broken by Darkseid.~ The gentle thought was buried deep in Bruce's mind, as if the telepathy was supposed to be secret, or hidden so the white ones could not hear it. // _their telepathy is not as advanced as that of my race_ // came back to Bruce's mind, and he kept his face as slack as possible as he was drug out.

The idea of fighting the captors flashed through his mind, but the soft presence in the back of his head warned against that tactic. When they situated Bruce in the same chamber he remembered from his arrival, a flash of fear stole into the pit of his stomach, reacting to the malevolence of the white ones.

~It is their way... what little gift of the mind they have, they push fear, rage, anger. I am here, and you must trust me, to save your world.~

Bruce's mind whirled on how they were going to do that, as the captors moves forward, tools of interrogation and torture at the ready.

~I will take your pain, and I will use the images in your mind to make Per'elandra seem too dangerous a place for them.~ Images of the old swashbuckling movies, of the heroes of past generations, of the more fearsome articles on war that Bruce had in his mind floated up slightly. ~I can deceive them, if you but let me have permission to use your mind while I shield your body.~

//Why...//

~Because it is right,~ came the gentle but persistent reassurance. ~You are a victim of my world's worst madnesses. How can I not try and right what I may?~

There was no more conscious dialogue after that, save a wordless assent for J'onn to do as he wished, because the diabolical white Martians began their craft of extracting answers. Bruce intellectually knew his body was in agony, even felt it responding as if every torturous touch was igniting his nerve endings, but somehow the green one in the cell was able to suppress it in his mind. And the answers they 'ripped' from his mind were full of the glory of such heroes as Green Lantern, The Crimson Avenger, and The Flash, though such heroes had long since vanished in the face of American paranoia.

At the end of it, the captors argued over whether the human would be of any more assistance, and ended with one of them injured as a stronger one had its way, and Bruce was locked back in the cell. Only once the whites were far gone did J'onn shift his appearance to the kindly form he had used the day before.

Long green fingers carded the hair back from the human's face, sharing drink and food with him before they 'spoke', for the experience had taken much out of both of them.

~They will hesitate.~

//To what end though? If I wind up dead, how will Earth even know of the danger?// Bruce's thoughts circled around the concept of escape and warning his people. After a long moment, he realized his companion was watching him closely. "What?"

~Even in peril of your own life, you think of others first. Perhaps you are kin to me in spirit.~ 

Bruce gave a wan smile, even as he began to feel the residual harm to his body filtering through the tired green Martian's controls. "Why did you look different... as your twin?"

~They have no fear of Ma'alefa'ak. He is mind-blind, and bears no love for any Martian.~ There was a heavy pain behind those words, and Bruce could feel the love mixed with pity and a failure to understand in the way J'onn spoke of his brother. 

"You're a spy."

There was a long moment as J'onn deciphered that concept. ~That may be accurate. I am seeking a resolution, by studying the whites more closely.~

"What have you learned?"

~That my people must be more fierce, or we will be exterminated,~ J'onn answered him sadly.

Bruce found himself hoping fervently for J'onn's ploys concerning Earth to work, because he did not like the impressions that this man, normally peace-loving, felt more militant action was violently needed to stop the whites.

~I will protect you, Bruce Wayne, and see you returned home, somehow.~

That assurance was the last, before both men fell into sleep, hidden in a stone fortress on the dusty red planet so far from Earth.

* * *

"We need an escape plan," Bruce said, after the fourth session. He had seen the way each one drained his alien protector. 

~Soon.~ J'onn was in the meditative stance of his people, arms loose and legs crossed. 

"You can't take much more of this."

That made the alien open his red eyes and look at his human companion. ~When the time comes, Bruce Wayne, I will provide a way for you to be returned to your people. None of mine are near enough to make escape feasible.~

Bruce looked at J'onn, as pieces of their shared captivity came into place. "You're here as a spy, on a schedule. Your people are preparing an offensive."

J'onn smiled. ~We are a peaceful people, but they have pushed us too far. The planet is on the brink of being unable to sustain any of us.~ He showed Bruce panoramic vistas of the world they were on, showing the wastelands that had once been lush and verdant. ~We have to put an end to the war, or none will survive.~ A deep sadness accompanied that thought, and Bruce's eyes snapped wide.

"Genocide?" he asked, catching the source of the despair flavoring the thoughts. 

~NO!~ J'onn immediately rebutted that concept in Bruce's mind. ~Exile. To a place that may be as dismal as this has become, but where they can only hurt themselves.~

"Never to return?" Bruce thought of what he would do if this were to be permanent, if he were to never see Gotham again.

~We will always listen for them, Bruce. I pledge you this. Should they seek peace, we will allow them to return.~

"Why you?" Bruce's curiosity about the alien was intense, wanting to reconcile the peace and protection with the ability to do what was needed in regards to the white ones.

J'onn closed his eyes and slowly opened his mind to the horrors of an earlier war, when Darkseid came and promised the whites supremacy while lulling the greens with friendship. J'onn's part in the war, going single handedly to Apocalypse to save the kidnapped green children and counselors unfolded in Bruce's mind, including a near suicidal final confrontation with Darkseid, Kanto, and the treacherous part his twin had played in it all.

~My kind see me as tainted with violence to the core, and therefore the only one capable of being their savior from it,~ he admitted softly. ~I am a philosopher, Bruce, but I am a Manhunter as well. I must do what I can to protect my daughter, my wife, my family, my people. If the onus of this is fully on my shoulders, perhaps I can save them from the psychic scars I carry.~

Bruce processed all that information, gathering a better sense of the alien than he had found through the shared memories. He rose from where he sat, and went to the larger alien, crouching in front of him and laying a hand on the oddly shaped one.

"You don't carry it alone anymore, friend."

* * *

~They come now.~ The announcement made Bruce tingle with renewed thirsts for freedom, for escape, for his home. It had been, according to J'onn, nearly three weeks since he had been brought to Mars, adapted to the planet, and interrogated daily. J'onn had grown weaker with every session, looking more like the false face of his wasted twin, Ma'alefa'ak even when he let the shape-changed illusion die away.

"I am ready," Bruce whispered, going over the plan in his mind. That it all revolved around the weakened green Martian fooling the whites did not make him happy in the least. But now, he kept his eyes on his companion, watching as J'onn became a twin to himself, fully human and eerie in his ability to mimic Bruce's stance. 

~Just remember to be silent.~ The second half of this required Bruce to sit in the spot that the false Ma'alefa'ak always remained in, and for J'onn to be able to blind their captors to the truth without betraying them both. To maintain his own disguise and confuse the two who would come into the room's senses was a daring attempt, but one J'onn insisted was needed. 

Bruce could not help but tense as the door opened, but though he saw the brief shimmer along the false Bruce's clothing, neither white was looking at the right moment. They regarded the seeming green prisoner with contempt, and marched the 'human' out in the same manner as always.

As the door shut, Bruce moved. According to J'onn, the room's locks against the human were only in place when Bruce was in there. They had needed the whites to march J'onn himself out, because the only time the room would not render J'onn unconscious on leaving was when escorted. But Bruce...

He sprang to the door, and found that it did open to a light touch, having not been locked as the whites thought they had the human with them, and trusting the technology in the door to keep the Green prisoner. Bruce moved slowly, cautiously, letting his ears adjust to the sound of the building, following along to where they would have taken J'onn. Though the whites were not as skilled in mind powers as their green cousins, Bruce heeded the advice of his fellow captive to think lightly, hiding his mental presence behind shields J'onn had been teaching him.

He reached the interrogation chamber not long after they had secured the false Bruce to the slab they used to keep him on his feet during the worse of the torturous sessions. The thought that any of them might lay a hand on J'onn that way caused a fury to rise up in the human, one he could only barely dull and hide behind the shield. Even so, he felt J'onn touch his mind, reassuring him with a faintness of strength that scared Bruce.

Would J'onn even survive this escape attempt? Would Bruce be freed, only to be alone? 

~You will be safe,~ J'onn's thoughts answered him, providing no reassurance at all. ~Go. My people are close.~

The thought of saving J'onn, of both going together intruded between them. 

~I must provide you time. When you reach my people, the information I planted in your mind will aid them.~

Bruce heard no sense of survival in those words. His eyes snapped dangerously, as he thought of defiance in the face of J'onn's seeming sacrifice.

~Do not fail me, Bruce Wayne. Have faith!~

With that strong admonishment in his mind, Bruce could only give in and leave, as they had planned, but not before he shot back a strong vow of his own.

//I will be back for you.//

* * *

Finding the green Martians proved to be relatively easy. Bruce had accepted the star images from J'onn, and followed the directions of 'go west' easily. He was categorizing the changes in his physiology as he went, though, noting that the reduced gravity felt Earth-normal to him, and that his body had already adapted to the longer Martian day/night cycle. The air still felt thin to him, occasionally, but not severely.

He wondered if he would wind up a permanent exile on Mars as a matter of physical necessity, a disturbing thought that intruded just as he sighted the column of Martians he had been sent to find.

Making himself understood, however, was quickly proving to be a matter of trial and error, as this group seemed loathe to touch his mind as deeply as J'onn had. Bruce was fast coming to the conclusion that his protector in the White Martians' care was as unlike his own people as Bruce himself could be in regards to humans.

Just as he was about to give up on truly making them understand that J'onn was in peril, that the Earth was in jeopardy, one of the Martians separated and came forward. This one wore the crossed straps and belt that J'onn did when Bruce had been alone with him, and the vague awareness that it was a uniform pinged on the human's mind.

"You're like J'onn," he said, sheer frustration causing him to voice his thoughts aloud.

~I am a Manhunter.~ The touch was flavored by necessity, with none of J'onn's curiosity or gentle awareness for the mental breach of a mind-deaf being. Bruce held his distaste for this touch back, refusing to dwell on the differences, as he relayed all the information J'onn had layered into his thoughts.

The plans that J'onn had spied upon, the information gained through the interrogations of Bruce, seemed to spur sudden debate and thought among the green ones, and Bruce found himself left entirely alone again. He observed the green Martians, noting the varied shapes of them, where some looked very angular, and others held almost human forms. The group was nearly even on males and females, Bruce noted, with only the one male who had approached him in the strapped uniform.

~Come.~ The Manhunter beckoned to Bruce, breaking his reverie. ~This knowledge must be acted upon now. We will do as J'onn has suggested, and utilize the Negative Projectors upon our cousins.~

"We'll be getting J'onn back, right?" Bruce questioned, because those thoughts had seemed less than promising on J'onn's fate.

~We cannot betray our plans with an assault on that fortress at this time.~

Bruce stared at the man for a long minute. The idea of leaving J'onn to maintain his illusions for any length of time, in the shape he was in, did not set well in the human's heart. His jaw set, and he began to speak, only to have a thought scythe through him.

~It is not easily chosen, to let him stay there,~ the Manhunter informed him. ~But all he has endured would be for nothing, if the white Martians were to know we have been aware of their command base.~

"Then let me go! Let me help him escape, so it looks like Ma'alefa'ak came back for me!" Bruce snapped.

~They know it would be unlikely for ....~

"I don't care! I can't repay what he did by leaving him there!"

The Manhunter watched the human for a moment, then made his choice. He walked away, Bruce stubbornly following him, and had a silent conversation with an older, or so Bruce thought, woman with the group. A few minutes passed, and the woman started pulling equipment out of her gear, offering it to Bruce. The Manhunter gave him quick instructions on how to use it, and then stressed the final instruction.

~We will commence our offensive as soon as we have returned to the Projectors, Bruce Wayne. You will wish to have him free of that fortress before that time, so be swift.~

"I plan to," Bruce told him flatly. He was curious at the weaponry he had been given, as well as the mind shield device, but it was a mild layer in the back of his mind.

~May H'ronmeer keep you safe.~

* * *

The one thing Bruce chose to dwell on was the thought that the white Martians would be aware of the escape of one prisoner. There was no way J'onn had been strong enough to blind them to the loss of a prisoner. If Bruce were lucky, the shape-changer was holding up in his human guise. They would be expecting the escaped green, as they thought, to have made a beeline for his people. If J'onn had faltered... that did not bear thinking about, for some reason Bruce could not truly fathom.

Evading the searching captors, if they had turned out to try to catch the escapee was the first hurdle. The second was in getting back inside and finding J'onn. The third was getting back out. Bruce laid it out in neat steps in his head, taking note of the fact he had been given a weapon designed to emit sonic waves at a range his ears could not detect. The Manhunter had said it would disrupt shape shifting and mental attacks both, but that would also blunt J'onn's abilities. Two small grenades, one designed to spark and pop like Earth sparklers, and the other, similar in size and shape, but designed as a true incendiary, completed his arsenal. The Manhunter had stressed the danger of using them. On Mars, flames died quickly, due to low air pressure and scant oxygen, but while they burned, Bruce would be unable to count on help from J'onn. In warfare, Martians tended to deploy them on timers, and try to be far from the havoc they wreaked on their enemies.

Bruce, however, would be playing strictly by opportunity, and that would mean finding some way to guide his powerless friend out of it, if he had to deploy the flaming grenade, or even its less powerful cousin. 

The complex loomed ahead, rather abruptly, given the too close horizon of this planet. He moved cautiously, one hand holding the disruptor, the other ready to drop to the grenades he carried. He slid inside the building, still unseen, and worried about the ease he was slipping in. He made his way toward the room they had been held in together, only to find its door open and the chamber empty.

That made him move toward the interrogation room, every sense wide open, including his mind as it reached over and over for the mind of his protector. The dark, empty feeling there was not reassuring, and Bruce wondered if he had jeopardized his own life for nothing. He dismissed that thought as quickly as it came; he owed J'onn.

That feeling of debt and resolution was put swiftly to the test, as he came to the room he had suffered in, and found his friend being worked over by the vicious whites, his shape back in its original form. Now, Bruce could faintly hear the pulse of life, and he almost panicked as that pulse dimmed a little more on the next strike of one of his tormentors.

Bruce could only act, as he pulled the sparking grenade and dropped it, ready to flare into action as it began its task of confusing the enemy. He could only pray, as skills long trained into his muscles took over, that he was in time.

* * *

The effect of the sparking grenade was immediately seen... and felt. Fear and confusion radiating from the five white Martians was bad enough, but the overwhelming panic in J'onn lanced straight down the bond-link he had forged with Bruce. 

Only his training, that raw will bent to his own purposes, saved Bruce and let him move, evading the blind, wild swings of the white ones long enough to remove J'onn's bindings.

"You've got to find control!" Bruce growl-hissed near the green Martian's ear... or where it normally was, as the green man was just as out of control of his form as the whites were.

//Fire, the great destroyer, bane and seducer of our kind.// The raw captivation and fear mingling threatened Bruce's control, slamming into his more primitive instincts as J'onn staggered upright, arm around Bruce.

A deadly swing of a spiky limb brought Bruce back to the here and now, though, as combat training overrode fear. He ducked, dragging J'onn out of the path of the next blow, and slammed all his own will to survive back down that link.

"I'm not dying here!" he growled, throwing himself into the link with all he had.

//Cool breezes off the harbor, long days observing the red mesas, warm evenings staring out over the garden, tight hold of M'y'riah, crisp voice of Alfred in his ears, gentle stories given to K'hym. Long buried trauma, despair at his brother's darkness, resolve to succeed, choice to bring violence, hard training to become the savior of small boys in the night, triumph at saving the children from Darkseid.//

The flow of one into the other and back again took moments, maybe three human heartbeats, and left both of them gasping for air... but J'onn was stable, choosing a more armored form to fend off the attacks of his pale cousin race.

Martian and Human alike squared off to fight their way free, never needing to warn the other of a move or a blow coming as perceptions overlapped and presented them both with all they needed. Bruce gave over to instinct then, not wanting to think too much through the varied senses, some of which were denied to normal humans as they played off the telepathy of the hurting Martian. How long they fought, or when exactly J'onn took the incendiary grenade from him, he would not have been able to tell. 

He only became aware that he was fully alone, in his own mind, and the fighting was done, as they stood under a starry sky and the complex burned behind them.

Bruce wanted to weep for the quiet in his mind, and turned his eyes up at his companion in a lack of understanding.

//I did not want to keep intruding,// J'onn whispered in his mind.

The link was too recently active, too present for Bruce to hide the flow of emotion, showing that stunted eight-year old boy who had been alone too long.

A heartbeat later, he was not alone any longer, and the pair set off to find shelter from the cold night.

* * *

J'onn slept at last, in the small natural cave they had reached before his reserves gave out. Bruce sat beside him, knowing he should sleep, but looking out the low entrance across the horizon and at the stars.

He thought he had found Earth, and it made his heart ache with desolate loss. He missed Alfred more than he ever had in his wandering path of training and dedication. It was as if the potential of remaining banned from the kitchen of Wayne Manor was far worse than the reality of his self-imposed exile for those years. If he could only listen once more to the debate of perfect pacifism versus harsh necessity between Leslie and Alfred one more time...

~Your thoughts are of... parents... no, the ones who came after.~ The gentle voice of his always present companion preceded the graceful alien sitting up. Bruce looked at him, huddling with his knees held in strong arms for better heat conservation, and shook his head slowly.

"I wonder if I will ever see them again."

~I promised you.~

The flicker of promises lost in a hail of bullets and scattered pearls splashed by red flitted through the melancholy human's mind, prompting one long, green arm to reach out and pull.

~You are cold, and I have heat to share. You are lonely, and that is unacceptable for a bond mate. Come close, and let me be your support, as I am meant to be.~

Bruce's mind struggled around that 'bond mate'. It was such a rich, full concept, one that implied forever and yet... J'onn had promised him a way home. He then felt the mind soothing him, easing his misgivings, his bristling at anyone encroaching on his reserves.

~Just rest.~

Bruce gave in, then, as this being meant him no harm, only goodness. It was Alfred and Leslie rolled into more, into something Bruce had never allowed himself, something he didn't dare accept, and yet how could he not?

"I can't get attached," he whispered, holding fiercely to his mission, even as he knew he had, in reaching out of his loneliness. 

~To walk the path of solitary journey, one risks falling into madness, for no one is there to show you where your steps have turned wrongly. It led my brother down his ill-fated path. It led the one called Darkseid, no doubt, to his consuming drive for that which will destroy everything. You must have someone who is willing to counsel, to guide, to reflect.~

Bruce thought over all of that, stomaching the concepts he saw as alien to his chosen mission, and had to admit to the truth of it. Still, he did not want to discuss it.

"Tell me about the solution?"

J'onn sighed softly, settling the human against him with a mild shape change that cushioned his companion better. ~My people wanted a peaceful way to defend themselves, if Darkseid ever returned. We cast about, and found that the universe is actually one of many, and around each is a tenuous place we called the Negative Zone. It supports life, but only just....~ J'onn showed him the mostly barren, dismal place they had spied. ~We created the projectors to send people there. My mission among the White Ones to learn if there was any chance of peace, and if not, to decide if they had access to the same technology. Now, my people have the information they need, and they will do what is needful.~

"An entire race exiled...." The scope still bothered Bruce, and a nagging concern rose to the forefront of his mind. "The children?"

J'onn's mind turned into a morass of painful debate, showing Bruce the pros and cons of a debate that had raged for long after the plan had been sanctioned. They could keep the children below a certain age, not yet indoctrinated in hate, and thus break apart the core staple of both races' foundation, the family unit, or they could exile them en masse.

~In the end, the very concept of attempting to break parental/child bonds was too abhorrent. Perhaps, having their small ones among them, will make them sue for peace and a return all the faster.~

Bruce shuddered, as both sides of the debate were thorny in their ethical details, but, perhaps J'onn was right. When the large hand of his companion came up to rest on his back, he realized how tired they both were.

"Safe to sleep?"

~Yes.~ Human and Martian, the smaller cocooned by the larger's arms, found peace in the dreamless sleep of the weary.

* * *

The pressure in his mind was what finally woke Bruce the next day. He became aware that J'onn's breathing was harsh, barely controlled, and the pressure was J'onn attempting to shield him from some great mental backlash.

"What is it?"

J'onn's eyes closed, and Bruce saw moisture welling at the corner of it. Then, as J'onn released his hold on Bruce's body, Bruce heard the man actually speak, in a voice that was a deeper, more robust version of his own dialect and accent.

"They have activated the projectors. Half of the Great Mind has been torn from us," the Martian said, rather than risk the mental storm touching Bruce's more delicate mind.

Bruce threw himself into J'onn's body, encouraging the Martian to hold on to him again, to use the offered anchor... and J'onn did, wrapping around Bruce as he grieved the exigencies of war.

* * *

The sun was high, and the winds were low when the pair disentangled to finally begin the hike. J'onn had shut himself off from the communal mind link, allowing him to move without the weight of losing so many minds pressing in on him. He kept talking to Bruce as they walked, falling into a tight, private link with him only rarely, to learn the words he needed.

Bruce laughed out loud when J'onn mingled Japanese into the English, because the concept rode in Bruce's mind as a Japanese word.

"What?"

"Your people have only one language, don't they?" Bruce asked.

"Yes. When so much is said in the mind, more would be pointless." J'onn lent Bruce a hand to get past a narrow crack in the ground. "I take it you do not?"

"No." Bruce launched into the explanation of ethnic and lingual differences on Earth, making the philosopher in J'onn weight the differences wrought by language, and those wrought by genetic differences, as in his own people.

By nightfall, however, they were approaching a small town, one J'onn firmly expected to find transportation for them in. He frowned, and made Bruce stay carefully back from it, as he forged on ahead to make contact.

When he returned, far too many minutes later for Bruce's peace of mind, the Green Martian was rather ashen, and at a loss.

"There is no one there. Not a trace."

Bruce reached up and steadied the man with a touch along his face, and one hand on his arm. "You're sure?"

"I went to reach out for them, but there is a wall of psychic energy, made of agony and suffering." J'onn shook his head. "They are gone, and it happened horribly."

Bruce could only look into the town, and wonder if the Green ones had set loose their own annihilation in their solution for the Whites.

* * *

The town they had come to was desolate and empty, the traces of psychic agony so strong that Bruce was sure the most mind-blind human could have felt it. He stayed close to J'onn as they made their way through, gathering needed supplies with a grim sense of necessity.

Bruce was the one who noted the ashen residue in places, the scorching of the more bare spots of stone. He pointed them out to J'onn, who nodded slowly as he investigated, without touching, a small drift of ash in the corner of an alcove.

"Fire consumes us completely," he said aloud, confirming what Bruce had begun to suspect. "It as if H'ronmeer himself had struck the town."

"Can you feel anything out there?"

J'onn hesitated, but closed his eyes and allowed his mind to reach, seeking those closest in distance, rather than in terms of soul bonds.

His eyes opened with weary sadness. "There is only the wave of agony still hanging over this town."

"Then we hike toward the next city," Bruce told him, refusing to give in to the wave of desolation threatening his companion. J'onn nodded.

"We must go there no matter what. It is the center of science, and the only place I can fulfill my promise to see you home safely. There, I can remove the changes they made to render you weaker here, and find the way to open a doorway to Earth for you."

"What did they do to me?" Bruce asked, one part curiosity, and one part an attempt to keep J'onn from losing spirit.

"They disconnected your mind's control of your muscles. Your gravity is heavier than that of our world, which could have made you difficult to control. Also, your air is thicker, so you might have sickened in our atmosphere. By rendering your mind incapable of calling on the full power of your muscles, it reduced your need for oxygen. In the long run, I believe your body would begin to atrophy from the disuse, much as one of my kind might lose function of the body by focusing too intently on the mind for too long."

"You're telling me it's all in my head?" Bruce asked, none too pleased to learn his current state of being was entirely psychosomatic.

J'onn caught the irony in how that was flavored strictly by tone of voice, and let a smile touch his lips, even if it could not reach his eyes. "Yes."

* * *

Silence, more than not, flavored their trek. Bruce was pushing at his limits, trying to break the mental blocks he now knew existed, while J'onn was struggling not to reach out with all he had for his wife and daughter.

If it had not been for Bruce's presence and his promise to the human, he would have done just that, no matter the cost of trying to break through the heavy feeling of psychic anguish. It felt like it had been so long since he saw M'y'riah, heard K'hym's laughter.…

"You're thinking of someone specific." Bruce's words startled J'onn, as he had been keeping the mind link to a very minimum, baseline level to shield Bruce from the press of the horror around him.

"My wife and daughter."

"I saw them, when we..."

"Blended." J'onn nodded. "As I saw your guardians, the ones you miss as much as you miss your city."

Bruce turned his attention to the sky, but the faltering sun was still too bright to allow him to see home. "Leslie and Alfred raised me. And when I chose my path, even though they both had objections, they let me find my own way."

"M'y'riah and I have had to overcome various issues but she too supports who I am," J'onn answered. He had to think in the present, he could not know if the tragedy of one town had spread; for his sanity, he had to believe otherwise.

"I'm not sure I could ever let myself have a child," Bruce said candidly. "The path I've chosen... I cannot leave an orphan."

"When the time comes, you will know if that new path is meant for you," J'onn said softly. "Children, after all, are the only form of immortality any species has."

"I don't want to be immortal; I just want to make a difference."

"The largest difference some ever make is in the child they give the world," the Martian told him. "But who can know what mark is left, until it is written as history?"

Bruce looked at the taller being, and slowly smiled at him. "Remind me never to let you sit and talk with Richard Dragon, okay? The two of you might throw philosophy around for weeks without coming up for air."

J'onn took that as the compliment he could tell it was intended as and they kept walking.

* * *

They entered the city together, with one fearful of what they might find, and the other verging between despair of going home and wishing he could ease his companion's burden. The immediate relief on seeing affairs as they should be was slightly offset by the puzzle of the town that had been completely swept clean of life.

"Maybe there was some weapon the White Ones deployed before they were swept into the Negative Zone?" Bruce asked aloud. He was rather relieved that J'onn had built sturdy mental shields in his mind now that they were among other telepaths.

"Perhaps," J'onn agreed, as he touched the Great Mind, finding it full of grief and a pang of the agony that had so blocked him, but also the hope for a peaceful rebuilding process. He pushed further, reaching out beyond the city, out toward... there it was. The touch of his wife and daughter was a moment of bliss that he only barely kept from sharing with Bruce, and that only because it was not fair to the homesick young man.

The worry he felt behind that touch, the curiosity over many Green deaths hovering in the Great Mind was something he could explore later, J'onn promised himself. For now, he needed to take Bruce to the science buildings, to get his fellow Martians to remove the mental disconnects and to open the way back to Per'elandra... Earth... for Bruce.

"What will you do, once I'm gone?" Bruce suddenly asked, aware that the loneliness he had felt in J'onn was not something his wife fully abated.

"Go home, be a husband and father, while I follow my philosopher studies." J'onn gave him a crooked smile. "Perhaps I will compose a treatise on humanity, based on my knowledge of you."

Bruce issued a short bark of laughter, knowing just how cracked a specimen of his race he truly was. "Your people would think mine truly insane then."

"Perhaps... but it is an insanity I share, deep within, my friend." J'onn rested his large hand along Bruce's jaw for just a moment before taking him inside the building that housed the greatest scientists of his people.

They advanced several hallways in, before Bruce felt J'onn stiffen violently, both in body and mind, just before a green one appeared on the edge of their sight, at the far end of a hall.

Bruce recognized the form as that of Ma'alefa'ak, the twin to his companion that had been J'onn's secret identity as a captive.

"J'onn?"

The taller being shook off his shock, as Ma'alefa'ak turned a corner out of sight. ~Perhaps my twin has found redemption and come back to us for forgiveness,~ came the hopeful, only half-believed thought.

"For your sake, I hope so," Bruce said, but he could not help but pick up the undertones. J'onn's twin, cursed with a dark name by their mother because of her divination before his birth, radiated a malice that Bruce discerned as twisting inside his soul. Such people rarely found the light of truth and salvation.

* * *

J'onn introduced his human friend to the lead scientists, and explained his problem. Bruce flinched away from the others touching his mind, so distracted himself with the fact that J'onn, despite being the hero of the moment, was being treated as if nothing special had occurred. It was an odd thing for the human, so accustomed to the ways of fame, to find a culture that emphasized community over personal gain so completely.

J'onn, for his part remained close, splitting his thoughts between soothing Bruce, wondering about his brother, and anticipating his own journey home.

It was the latter of these tracks that flavored his final farewell to Bruce, as well as the hint of sadness to be so far parted from his bonded mate, when the scientists opened the portal to Earth. J'onn clasped Bruce to his larger frame in an unabashed hug, and felt it returned fully, if awkwardly, before Bruce walked toward the portal, toward the city that called his soul home.

As he stepped out on the building in the heart of his city, he turned to see the portal diminishing, J'onn still watching him, and thus saw as Ma'alefa'ak entered the chamber they had been in. Bruce cried out to J'onn out of instinct, and saw the Martian turn just as Ma'alefa'ak set off a flaring grenade... and then the portal was gone, leaving Bruce with nightmares on the edges of his mind as to what was happening on far away Mars.


	2. Drowning in the Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on Earth, Bruce has to search for the answers to what happened on Mars

"Master Bruce? Will you be retiring late?" The unspoken 'again' lingered in the air of the damp, chill cave. Bruce didn't even turn to look at the man who had spoken, just kept working on the armor's final touches. He was almost ready, his crusade laid out before him in feverish detail... and yet, there was a bitter film over the whole project. Somewhere too far away for even a billionaire to reach, the fate of a world, and one man in particular, was playing out in danse macabre fashion, always just barely teasing at the edges of Bruce's awareness.

Alfred did not sigh, but he made sure his turn and climb on the steps was perfectly audible to Bruce. In the two weeks since the boy ...no, man... had been returned to them, there had been a growing sense of doom surrounding him. Neither Doctor Thompkins nor Alfred had been able to get the full details of his mysterious abduction and return. All Bruce would say was it was over, and that he had work to begin.

Work, it turned out, that had included installing various pieces of computer and diagnostic equipment in the drafty cave, finishing the modifications to the car there, and building a set of armor with tall cowl peaks and arm talon spikes coming off the gauntlets. Bruce had come up with the design based on a bat, originally, but now... he remembered Martian forms, both green and white, full of spines and sharp corners, when he looked at the completed design.

He blinked away the image in his mind's eye, of two brothers locked in a deadly embrace, and forced himself to work. If he finished everything tonight, the Bat could begin his mission the next night. And if he worked hard enough, maybe he'd find the dreamless sleep that eluded him every day.

* * *

_Smoke and ash, millions of small pyres set in homes, streets, businesses. Sounds of psychic and physical agony, while overwhelming grief rolled throughout a planet. A solitary drive forward, spreading a message no one wished to hear. Better to die than be cut off from the Great Mind._

"J'onn!" Bruce gasped as he came awake, sweat pouring off his skin that cooled just as suddenly, raising gooseflesh.

The first rays of the sun were peering in behind the curtains, and the clock balefully told him he'd been in bed less than two hours.

It didn't matter as he swung his feet to the floor, pulling on a pair of loose pants to perform kata in. Once the dream came, there could be no sleep.

* * *

Bruce dropped heavily into the chair at the computer, and then winced. His first night on the streets and he had some badly bruised ribs to show for it, with very little else. Sure, that one would-be mugger had absolutely wet himself in fear, but it wasn't enough. How was he going to be where he was really needed? The police scanner had been detailing an armed robbery already being pursued by the police when he got back to the car.

There had to be a way. He needed a way to know of the crimes before they had the police there, or at least a way to make the police let him help.

The distraction of thinking about that, about his next strategic entrance, was almost enough to ward away the smell of arid vistas under a more distant sun. He tightened his focus further, but did not question it when the idea of spying in the rogue circles crossed his mind. J'onn had been brave enough; Bruce was certain he could be.

* * *

Creating Batman was an easy task compared to creating a set of ears on the street. Bruce had abandoned the idea of starting from the ground up, as it would take too much time from patrols and his work at his company.

Finding someone who had been away for a time or was getting ready to vanish was difficult. It stayed on the back burner, a simmering plot for the future. 

The other back burner of his mind was that this could not be a job strictly for himself. J'onn had worked alone as the spy, but he had his entire race behind him ready in support. Bruce's personal mission was his alone, but what about the other cities beset by crime and corruption? Where were their heroes?

Who would keep those heroes in check, and prevent them from becoming the problem? Humanity had no Great Mind reinforcing the pain of one as the pain of the many. 

So many questions he had shoved to the back of his mind in pursuing his learning now percolated to the top, edged out into the open by the questioning nature of the one who was now a lingering, throbbing pain in Bruce's soul.

Despite all the problems he took on, there was never a night that Bruce failed to go above the cloud of industrial smog to see if the stars were out, seeking one bright pulse above all others.

J'onn lived, he knew this in his soul, but not how well and with whom. All Bruce did know was that his soul's reflection was dimmed by the grief of an adult.

* * *

_Fast flight, try to get ahead. Can't let him escape this time. Make him stop it, make the dying stop, just stop him. Not revenge. Not vengeance. Just want it to stop. Brother!_

Bruce swerved the car back into its lane, leaving work with the rush of thousands of others just wanting to go home to their families and normal lives.

He frowned, noting the sun had not truly taken its dip to the western horizon.

He had never had one of the dreams while awake, and yet he could feel the acrid tang of ash-driven winds on his skin even now.

* * *

A new brand of criminal on the streets pushed everything back in priority for Batman. He could not go investigate the tales of a flying man in Metropolis, or a mysterious red blur in Central. If there really was a man wielding green energy constructs, that would have to wait too, just like the man breathing water who rescued that one tanker's crew.

No, Batman had to contend with people using chemicals to induce fear, ex-carnies turned to lives of crime with near bullet proof skin, and the latest shape changing being of living mud.

He had hesitated, despite knowing better when Clayface shifted between man and monster.

And Clayface had gotten away, because a blip of sentiment surfaced from the aching soul of a human separated from his Martian.

Batman could not afford that. Which meant one of two things. Either the distraction had to go, or it had to be saved.

* * *

Manned spaceflight was still impractical. He had no idea if it was a practical thing to ask either the sorcerer Jason Blood or the magician Zatara to help him find a portal, such as the Whites had used to drag him to Mars.

That left more unconventional science, and researching those avenues ate into time he needed to run his company and his mission. He needed someone, someone he could rely on. Someone to help him in all three aspects, if possible.

Grizzled Gotham veteran police officer Jim Gordon was his break in the mission. Between the one honest cop in town, and a really tough District Attorney, Bruce felt the city could afford occasional absences of its growing Urban Legend, the Batman.

Alfred, bless the man forever, was quick to point out that Bruce was not actually needed to be there at Wayne Enterprises full time. All he needed was to get to know the man that had run it in Bruce's own minority and absence. Lucius Fox, after all, had been hand picked by Thomas in a time when a black man was often still slighted and had to work three times as hard to prove himself to coworkers.

Lucius had more than done so, and paved the way for true equality throughout Wayne Enterprises.

That only left the third path, and it was not a path Bruce intended to let become too public, too soon.

* * *

"Ted, isn't it?"

The gangly teen looked at the man coming into his workshop with puzzlement... then he remembered his dad mentioning an investor.

"Mister Wayne?"

"Yes, that's me, but I'd rather you call me Bruce." The man settled on a nearby stool. "I've looked at a lot of your designs, and while I'm not sure they're all practical for full production, I can see where they will be."

Ted's eyes blazed wide open at that. This was the CEO of Wayne Enterprises, a company that could swallow Kord Industries whole....telling him his ideas were good. "Umm, sir... I could make an argument for production on a few of these..."

"I know you could. And will. I'm negotiating with your father to be a silent partner in Kord Industries, pursuant to seeing some of those ideas do just that. But another clause... there are some designs I want to buy outright. For my own personal development."

Ted looked pained at that thought of that.

"Ted... I'll consult you on all applications of the ones I want. I swear that you will have the ability to tell me no... and I will abide by it."

The teen looked at the young man //not so much older than me// and felt the sincerity rippling through the words, saw it in Bruce Wayne's features. "As long as I get the say-so," he said softly.

"You will." Bruce shifted so he could look at some of the diagrams he had in his folder with Ted able to see them too. "This one... you really think a matter transport beam could work?"

"That's built off someone else's research, but yes, I think it could. Given the right power source, and a smart enough computer...." Ted was off into the idea and the principles, amazed when Bruce was able to keep up with him until he reached the more quantum level mathematics necessary.

By the time Bruce left, he had a new admiring friend... and the name Dr. Erdel to help him reach his own true goal.

* * *

_Desolate plains, wind swept and barren. Hot, fierce sun beating down by day. Cold, loveless skies by night. Ever moving, nowhere to go, running away from the pain, hoping every settlement found might change the fate he already knew._

_Always disappointed, one more burden on many others._

Bruce stilled the speed bag, breaking the hypnotic thrall, breathing in the cool air of the Cave to expunge the acrid taste of Martian air. He looked at the clock, and was relieved; it was late enough he could get Alfred to take him to the airport. Dr. Erdel had asked him to come, for the promised demonstration.

If it all went well, these dreams would no longer be futile railings at Fate.

If the scientist delivered results, Bruce would make good on his promise.

J'onn would not be alone.

* * *

They were halfway to the airport when an explosion in the factory district made itself known, and the radio announced fires threatening the Axis Chemical plant. Alfred looked up into the mirror as this was followed up with reports of open gang warfare in the area.

He did not care to ever see the pain of such personal indecision on his ward's features ever again.

"Alfred..."

"There will be other flights, other scientists," the man replied, turning for the nearest safe haven with Bruce's gear hidden in it.

//Forgive me, my friend.//

* * *

Bruce came downstairs late the next morning, showered and in pants, with a first aid kit in hand and a shirt of thicker material than his usual wont to hide the bandages. Alfred took it as Bruce settled on a stool, the paper in front of him.

"I do say it was a night for fires, Master Bruce. The chap you meant to go see appears to have had an equipment malfunction that cost him his lab and set him in the hospital."

Bruce's heart hammered to hear that, flipping to the section that covered scientific news to read it for himself.

As he read the details of the complete ruin of the Middleton Observatory, Bruce's soul quailed. Erdel was the only one he had found even a slight rumor of that might be able to transform matter transmission from speculative fiction to real world applications.

"See that his hospital stay is properly paid for, and make a generous contribution to the rebuilding," Bruce said, shutting away the lost feeling.

It would be almost a week before he wondered at his lack of visions and dreams of Mars.

* * *

Far away, a lost being, his mind broken by tragedy and the uncertain method of transport, hid himself carefully after fleeing the deadly fire.

* * *

"...can't go in there," came the harried voice of Bruce's private secretary as the door swung in and a very excited, half-grown genius ran in waving sheafs of paper.

"It's alright, Jackie," Bruce calmed the secretary as she followed. "Mister Kord has the right to my ear."

"As you wish, Mister Wayne," the harried woman said, a disapproving look toward the teen who was spreading the papers over Bruce's work table to the side of the spacious office. She withdrew, closing the doors, as Bruce made a mental note that it was time to promote her into an easier job and get a new secretary. It would be best if he did not let any of them work for him too long, not if he wanted his secrets kept properly.

"Ted?"

"Mister Wayne, you need to see this. I know you were detained from going to Doctor Erdel's for his experiment...good thing, considering, but I was paralleling him, just without the actual power push to duplicate the transmission, and... well, I hacked his back up server for the after-action data, since he's laid up and not capable of it."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the admission of the hacking, but said nothing as he came to stand behind the excitable teenager. "And?"

"And... according to the readings on the energy used for the thrust and then the return beam back... I think it worked!"

"His beam reached a foreign body and excavated matter, bringing it back? It would have been destroyed in the fire, I'd think, so there's no way to prove it." Bruce frowned; if Erdel had succeeded, could Ted duplicate it, with more safeties built in? Was there a way to reach another planet nearly instantaneously, and move matter as energy?

Ted shook his head. "I don't think it was inert matter, Mister Wayne. The data reads before the fire kicked off all the sensors picked up kinetic energy in the return beam. Whatever it brought back was moving."

"Moving..." It took effort to draw on the deep training to act in complete calm, rather than the wild hope he felt, as he looked at the papers. //Are you here, my soul brother?//

"Unless the fire got it... and there's been no report of non-identifiable substances... there's a Martian import on our planet."

* * *

{Where are you?}

It was not the first time Bruce had thrown the query into the ether, not even sure if he could send at all to the Martian he was bonded to. The lack of dreams was so ominous, the feeling of isolation growing with every night that Bruce felt no answer.

His first instinct to go to Middleton was quashed time and again, as either the needs of his company or his city tied him down. All he could do was to try and focus at random points of time and try to be a beacon.

* * *

The feeling of being stripped naked and laid bare for the world to see was a strong one as Bruce moved into the underground walks of his city, a drifter and con man by name of 'Matches' Malone. The real 'Matches' was currently well out of Gotham, but the persona had been relatively easy to assume for the consummate actor that Bruce was. 

This latest string of heists and kidnappings felt connected, but so far Bruce had failed to discern the ties. Going in undercover seemed his only option. 

It also provided him a welcome distraction from the gnawing emptiness of three months' silence. Even the hopeful little boy trapped in Bruce's psyche could not hold on to the belief that J'onn was both on Earth and alive.

* * *

The bust was going well, from Bruce's hidden perspective. He would definitely keep 'Matches' a ready player in Gotham's seedier side of things, as he had received enough information to deliver the right tips to Gordon.

He knew there were probably other parts of town to tend to, but watching the officers below move around, Bruce could not help but feel a sense of pride. He watched Gordon call a plain-clothes cop over, a man Bruce did not know. He wondered who the new cop was, because he did not move like a rookie, with his tall frame held at unconscious ready to Bruce's trained eyes.

Then the man turned his face up, scanning the rooftops in response to something Gordon had said...and Bruce could have sworn the man looked directly at him despite the shadows. The gaze moved on, before the police started moving to their cars.

Bruce's binocular lenses in the cowl noted the make and model of the car the tall officer went to. Bruce noted, with almost bitter irony, that the tags on the car were from Colorado, and that made the pride in the week's work melt into the gnawing loneliness all over again.

* * *

"Come here and meet one of the most diligent supporters of the Police Benevolent Association," was the only warning Bruce had. He hated these things, these gala charity events that required him to put his largesse on display. They took away from his other activities, made him indulge some flighty heiress as an escort, and invariably invited trouble.

However, if Assistant DA Dent wanted him to meet someone, it was the least he could do. Play the foppish, generous, naive playboy to the hilt, and.…

He couldn't breathe and he was afraid everyone was going to notice. The tall, plain clothes cop from Colorado was right there, his eyes filled with a timeless suffering that Bruce knew as well as he knew his own name.

Only, there was nothing in his mind, nothing to say he was right.

"Bruce, meet Detective Jones. He's just transferred in from Middleton, by his own request! Can you believe that? Someone wanting to come to Gotham?"

"She called to me," came the sonorous voice that was right and yet wrong in Bruce's ears. "The city has a troubled soul."

//Two now,// was Bruce's first thought, but he had to come up with a quick answer. "Gotham has a deep appeal, Harvey, as you well know, or you'd be practicing in Metropolis."

"True." Harvey shrugged, then noticed someone else and dragged the detective away for introductions.

Bruce could only watch as the tall man walked away, with only a single, slow glance over his shoulder, those sad eyes lingering in Bruce's mind.

* * *

Bruce Wayne would have trouble getting close enough to Detective Jones, but Batman had fewer restrictions. Some careful rifling of paperwork late one night coughed up an address, and plans were made.

Bruce, however, paid in loss of sleep and cold, sweaty moments of fear that he was wrong.

Alfred did note the shift in focus; how could he not, when Bruce's routine was rarely punctuated by pacing as it now was?

He kept his silence, waiting to see if his ward might speak on his own at last, but intuitively knowing a true change was close at hand.

* * *

Detective John Jones was a man who thought he knew his own mind. Having wrapped up an important case against the mafia, he had willingly taken the suggestion to transfer, picking Gotham because everyone said it needed more help than the gods could render.

Three weeks into his stay in Gotham, and he was almost certain the older officers in Middleton had underestimated the truth of the matter. Between a corrupt force that had killed or forcibly retired most of the honest cops, a political circus of ineptitude, and the open lawlessness of both the mafia and a growing crowd of fringe oddities like Killer Croc and Clayface, this city hardly had a fighting chance.

Jones wanted to change that. He had already spotted Gordon as a potential ally in the fight. He was willing to listen to Dent, though he felt uneasy whenever the man started speaking of chances and luck where the tide of crime was concerned.

The Batman, however, was an unknown player for him. Was he another symptom of the illness, or a potential cure? Gordon trusted him with wary respect, and Dent was often seen extolling the methods used to bring in crooks for the law to properly handle.

Who was he, and was he sane enough to trust in the fight for justice?

"Hello."

Jones whirled to see the person just in his thoughts braced in the open window. The shadow fell across the armor in such a way that Jones frowned. Had he seen something like that once? All the spines of the gauntlet, the angular cut of the cowl....

"I wanted to meet you in person, Detective Jones. I pay attention to the ones Gordon takes under his wing."

"How did you find my address?" He did not reach for his service pistol; instead, he noted the tiny details that emerged as the Batman moved, letting the pale city light touch his jaw, reveal the eyes hidden only by the shadows this night.

Blue eyes. Clear blue eyes that looked at Jones with a mirror of the never ending tragedy beating at Jones' own soul.

"A little B&E, but only because I can't just ask," Batman said ruefully. He moved forward, away from the window, and then hesitated. "John Jones, decorated officer of the Middleton Police Force, just finished breaking the Boskone Mafia arm there. Transferred to Gotham Police Department by your own choice."

"Yes," Jones said evenly.

"But you're more than that." Bruce was sure, watching the man, seeing the grace of the Martian confined in the Earthly limbs.

"Excuse me?"

"Forgive me, soul-brother," Bruce whispered, before striking a match.

* * *

The instant the match flared to life, Bruce felt as if his mind was under assault. In the near year since his return from Mars, he had been plagued by visions and nightmares of what he had escaped, up until the night of the fire at Erdel's experiment. With that silence, Bruce's mind had descended into the darkness of silence, one that felt like the claustrophobia of hiding in a closet inside an empty mansion.

No longer. The sheer weight of everything J'onn had experienced slammed into him. Now that it was not held back by the peculiar amnesia of psychic trauma, nor constrained by the gulf of distance between the planets, J'onn gave Bruce everything, seeking an anchor even as he fought to find who he was inside the maelstrom of his own psyche.

* * *

_J'onn felt the portal close completely as he turned to confront Ma'alefa'ak. The two fought, with the dark, twisted brother promising that he would have his revenge on the entire race when the second wave of the disease came._

_By week's end, the city was dead._

_Scarcely a day after, he made it to his own home, where K'hym proved to be infected already, and J'onn watched in horror as M'y'riah and she were consumed._

_A month proved to him that no one lived in any of the Green settlements. A search of the White fortresses both confirmed the effectiveness of the projectors in banishing the hostile half of the race, and that J'onn was not truly alone. Whispers of the mind he had bonded to continued to plague him. If there were only a way to reach Earth now... and so he had, once the initial wave of grief passed, made his way back to the great city of learning._

_And found Ma'alefa'ak attempting to save himself from the planet. In the ensuing fight, J'onn got the upper hand, killing his brother, but in doing so, the equipment to generate portals was irrevocably damaged._

_Lonely wandering became the normal routine, as sanity proved fleeting, with the pressure of his people's ghosts all around him. Until the day an energy pull could not be denied, and J'onn's mind broke in half at being surrounded by flames again..._

* * *

Bruce slowly felt his knees were on the floor of the apartment, and strong, green hands were holding his shoulders as his uncowled //when did I...// forehead bent into an equally green chest. It was not the more human looking form, but the true form of his Martian soul brother holding him up. Anguish still rippled through both men, yet the echoing emptiness was gone. Bruce was with J'onn as fully as when they had fought together against the Whites, and vice versa.

Neither man could dream of it being otherwise, as the two halves fell into the whole they had made, escaping their own lonely crucibles.

"Come home with me," Bruce whispered. 

~I am home, now that I found you.~ J'onn shifted, assuming the guise of John Jones, new Detective in Gotham. "Even broken, I knew I had to find you," he said in a warm, sonorous voice.

"I'm glad you did."


	3. A Splash of Yellow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J'onn and Bruce are whole, but that does not mean there is no room for more in their life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks for the encouragement to add more to this tale.

Detective John Jones of the Gotham Police Department knew the moment things went to hell at Haley's Circus. There was no way for him to not take the backlash of a man reliving his worst moments through another boy's tragic loss. Tied down by his own case, all John could do was thread himself more firmly through Bruce's mind, providing a buffer so the man could continue to be functional. He was relieved the radio coughed up a request for assistance within ten minutes.

With the affair having been a charity gala, John was certain that Gordon would take it himself. Bruce would be in safe hands. He kept a light touch on his soul-brother's mind, and continued working.

* * *

It was early the next morning before both men were home again, and it only took a look before J'onn was enfolding Bruce into protective arms, all pretense of human form fleeing in the face of Bruce's anguish.

"The boy… they took him from the circus, from those who were his family and friends. On the same night he saw his parents die!" Bruce was upset and angry, a combination that did not bode well for anyone else. "He probably wasn't safe there, I know, but… he needs someone who understands, not a system filing kids like records."

J'onn tipped his face down toward Bruce, hearing the unspoken request so clearly. Was he ready for this? Alfred had accepted him. A child — his soul ached for his daughter, for his wife, and Bruce strengthened his own hold around him — would inevitably have to be told or would learn on their own the secrets of this house.

"Find the boy, Bruce, bring him home. If we cannot make the circus safe for him once more, then he shall live with us," J'onn told his soul-brother.

Bruce took a deep breath, settling into himself. He did not need to ask if J'onn was certain; they knew each other too well for second-guessing.

* * *

The boy was visibly nervous, and John dropped down to be more on a level with him as Bruce made the introductions.

"Dick Grayson, this is my partner, John Jones," Bruce said, never once hesitating. It had been a devastating blow to half of Gotham's eligible women to find their targeted Heir Prince was bisexual and taken. "He is a police detective and can make certain we know of new updates in your case."

"Though the reason is tragic, Dick, I am glad to meet you," John told the boy who was physically older than his daughter had been, if only by a couple of years, once allowances for races were made. 

Dick sized him up with eyes older than even the tragedy could account for. Bruce had told him that circus-folk matured quicker. Finally, the boy stuck a hand out, his mop of black hair flipped back from his face. "You live here too? Seems awful big for just the three of you," he said, looking all around.

Alfred smiled. "More space for you to explore, Master Dick," he said wisely.

John nodded to the boy. "I stay here often, yes, but I keep an apartment in the city. I will show you, if you like, the next time I go to it." He shook the boy's hand firmly, filing away that suspicious yet inquisitive mental touch as a fingerprint to hold on to.

* * *

John was out of town, having been called back to Middleton, when the entire circus case came to a close. He knew, of course, that Bruce's secret had been exposed. Distance could not dampen the soul-deep knowledge. He was uncertain just what to expect from Dick, though, when he finally got back to Gotham, and the Manor.

The boy, shockingly, never let on that there were secrets beneath the manor, playing the situation as coolly as Bruce himself could.

"I half-expected him to demand to know what I did in regards to the Cave," John admitted to Alfred while the boy was at school and Bruce was at work. "Yet, even on his public mind, there is nothing to betray that he knows what Bruce does."

"The lad is quite surprising, I agree, in how he has adapted," Alfred agreed. "But, Master J'onn, what do you wish to do? Wait for a night when you and Master Bruce are to work together to tell the boy, or break it to him beforehand?"

John sipped his milk, then took another cookie as he thought on it. "I prefer to give my trust to him first."

Alfred nodded, a small smile showing his approval.

* * *

Dick's brow furrowed as he saw it was John picking him up from school instead of Alfred, but John did not let that throw him off of his goal. 

"I thought I'd let Alfred enjoy his afternoon shows a little longer," John told the boy as Dick slid into the car. "Pizza and Zesti for a quick meal," he added, nodding his head to the backseat where the smell of pizza was tantalizing the boy.

"Cool," Dick said, before quieting down for the ride over to John's apartment. 

Inside, John handled serving up pizza and soda, along with the brownie bites that were almost a decent replacement for Alfred's cookies, before sitting beside Dick at the counter between the living room and the kitchen.

"Bruce said you've had an adventurous few weeks," John said, starting small. Even with that break, Dick's mind noise was more general surprise than anything specific about bats and caves. "He _is_ my partner, Dick. I know who he really is for our city."

That was enough to crack Dick's resolve, and the boy grew quite animated. "He's so cool, John! And I can train and I can help him and he says he's going to introduce me to Martian Manhunter and it's so awesome!" 

John had to smile at that exuberance. "I may have to prevent him from making that introduction… by handling it myself," John told the boy, sliding into the hybrid form he showed Gotham's underbelly. Dick's eyes went huge, and then J'onn found himself with a half-grown boy hugging him around his middle.

"Good… because I was hoping it was really you," Dick said, unaware of just how much he had melted J'onn's heart with that freely given hug.

"We're an odd family," J'onn murmured.

"That's the best kind," Dick said firmly.

**Author's Note:**

> My dedication on this is to Chicago the writer who wrote the [Martian Manlove series](http://www.offpanel.net/chicago/greenguy/), and to Icarus-Chained for supporting me through the writing of this one.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Comfort in Companions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7013458) by [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly)
  * [The Path's Beginning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033212) by [Merfilly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly)




End file.
